


Somewhere For This, Death And Guns

by Kawaiibooker



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Overwatch Retribution, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 15:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17470013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiibooker/pseuds/Kawaiibooker
Summary: Midnight moping sessions and coffee. It's the quiet moments inbetween that count.





	Somewhere For This, Death And Guns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VeggieTRex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeggieTRex/gifts).



> Beta-read by [anderfels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anderfels/pseuds/anderfels).
> 
> Commissioned by my dear friend [Veggietrex](http://veggietrex.tumblr.com/). Thank you for your support!
> 
> Set just after the Retribution event.

Genji's eyes aren't always red. They had barely made it to the evac vehicle, bloodied and panting and sore, and McCree had glanced over to catch a glimpse of gray hiding beyond that haunting crimson glow.

It's the only thing on his mind, after the dust has settled and they'd gotten their asses handed to 'em by the brass – a meeting McCree had spent giving Reyes the most venomous glare he could get away with, only to be met with a huff and an eye-roll. Mind a-buzz with the day's events, McCree tossed and turned and twisted through a lousy attempt to sleep before he gave up entirely.

The common room is an amalgamation of shadows and silhouettes in the dim moonlight spilling through the windows. McCree doesn't bother hitting the light switch; this is a well-worn routine, familiar enough his hands go through the motions of making coffee all by themselves and soon, he's blankly watching the coffee grounds swirl around in that shitty French press Moira insisted they needed.

“So what they say is true, about cowboys and their coffee.”

McCree does not jump... much. Maybe he startles a little, maybe his hand twitches for his gun and some of the near-scalding almost-coffee sloshes over his fingers – he curses, “fuckin' ninja and your fuckin' sneakin'”, and no, his heart does _not_ speed up at the rare chuckle, cybernetically distorted as it is.

“Lemme guess”, McCree grumbles, holding his hand under the rush of lukewarm water straight from the tap. Gradually, the room turns red as Genji activates the LEDs of his suit. “You been sittin' here for hours now, broodin' in the dark, waitin' for lil old me to come in...”

Genji breathes an amused _hmm_ , nothing more. He's mysterious like that, this elusive colleague of his that McCree never expected to grow attached to and still something about the there-and-gone flashes of humor and biting commentary in the heat of battle had drawn him in. Yeah, it might just be his imagination but when he joins Genji by the rickety little thing that dares to call itself a table, flicking on the lights with a pointed look at the cyborg, there's subtle lines at the corner of his eyes that suggest he's smiling under his armor and, well...

McCree has learned to count his blessings, wherever they cross his path.

Two mugs of coffee in hand, he slides one over to Genji before taking a sip of his own. _Ugh, damn that French press._ “So. What d'you think of all this?”

Genji's head tilts, bird-like. McCree raises an eyebrow, _really now?_ , but it'll be a cold day in hell before he doesn't eventually fold to the question lingering in Genji's eyes.

Less red, not quite gray either. Someday he'll figure it out.

“Ya saw what kinda shitshow that was, G. Ain't no way Morrison is gonna let this one pass and if he does, he's an even bigger fool than I thought.”

Again Genji hums, more pensive than final, the metal tips of his fingers clinking against cheap ceramic as he slowly and methodically turns the mug in his hand. “It was not ideal, sure. Even so, we have killed less deserving men than Antonio Bartalotti, you and I.”

That dark tone in his voice? It makes McCree swallow, his mouth suddenly very, very dry. “I guess”, he says, clears his throat. “Hate it when you make sense, sugar. Kinda ruins my midnight mopin' session, ya know?”

“Hah.” Genji leans forward, making the table creak. His arms are loosely crossed in front of him – remarkably close to a slouch, by his standards. “You should leave the brooding to me, Jesse. It does not become you.”

Before McCree can stop himself, he asks, “That so?”, drinking from his mug with an exaggerated sigh. “And here I was, thinkin' it makes me look like one'a them classic detective types. To catch a bad guy, you've got to think like a bad guy–”

His best gritty crime novel impersonation gets interrupted by Genji's laugh, quiet and a bit rusty and all the more precious. “You are ridiculous”, he says, genuine warmth shining through his filtered voice.

Ah, to get to know the man beneath metal and scars – McCree grins, “All part'a the charm, I hope”, scratches his neck, counts his lucky stars that somehow along the line, Genji decided to trust him with this: little pieces of himself, carefully placed and fused back together by gold.

It's tempting, to stick around and see what else he can tease out of him; he hasn't forgotten the exhaustion lurking behind his heavy eyelids, however, and Genji has to be feeling it too, cyborg or not. McCree tosses down the last of the coffee, grimacing at the taste.

“Alright, I'm callin' it a day. You comin', G?”

Genji nods, on his feet and carrying the mugs to the kitchenette's dingy sink before McCree can object. His red-gray gaze softens, then, flitting over to McCree before following the motions of his hands as he handles and cleans the dollar-store mugs like the most expensive china.

“Thank you for the coffee.”

Perhaps McCree will never know everything that goes on in that head of his; yet, when he leans in and kisses his faceplate where his cheek would be, a fleeting brush of lips against metal, Genji blinks, suddenly young and unguarded.

“You're more than welcome, darling”, McCree tells him, voice smooth despite his heart's efforts to jump out of his throat and _oh_ , that's definitely a smile, this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Been quite a while since I wrote for Overwatch! These two are so sweet, I hope I did them justice c:
> 
> [tumblr](https://kawaiibooker.tumblr.com) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/kawaiibooker)


End file.
